After Theodore’s birth, a wave of emotion would keep washing over me whenever I thought about all the amazing midwives, doctors and support staff who were there for me throughout the pregnancy and birth. And even after I left hospital I would keep going to this little place in my head and heart where everything was warm and fuzzy and wonderful.

I was worried I would lose or forget these emotions, and was keen to write something down to mark the occasion, but as you can tell by the date of this blog, it took me a while to write anything down…

But in typing these words, I’m immediately drawn back into the moments and emotions surrounding his birth, and I can quite easily bring on the tears if I allow myself to wallow too much! And exactly the same thing happens if I think about my Dad’s death too deeply, tears galore.

I didn’t feel quite this way with Rafe’s birth, I think I was too knackered and in worse shape, and as I knew we wanted to try for a second child, I didn’t have the additional sense of something ending – the end of me being part of this world and this experience.

I’m nearly 37, I’m 99% sure we aren’t going to try for another child for a multitude of sensible reasons, and as much as I had a lot of dreams about raising a girl, I’m very very very happy to have my second little flump with a willy, and it will be amazing to see how Rafe and Theodore grow up, and hopefully be the best of friends.

So, I know something is over for me. The part of my life that will grow another human is done, and the part of my life that will labour and birth another human is done too. And that’s okay, and I can deal with it, but I don’t ever want to completely let go of these emotions, and this giant sense of love for a tremendous and amazing group of people who safely brought both my children into the world, and who looked after me so well.

And while I breastfeed and continue to be the only person that Theodore actually needs right now, the Lara who grew two humans isn’t too far away.